


No God On These Streets

by halfsavageandhardy



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eternal Sterek, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsavageandhardy/pseuds/halfsavageandhardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolves howl for all sorts of reasons, to establish their territory, to locate other members of their pack, to hunt, but tonight it was all about reestablishing a bond. The bond that tied them together as pack in the first place. Each of their voices weaved in and out  like fish slipping against one another in a stream. Each voice wove together to form a tapestry of song that was coherent, but suddenly there was another voice added to the mix, another fish in the stream. A voice that didn’t exactly belong, that was harsh and grating to his wolf ears, but that’s what made it special. Derek cut his eyes to see Stiles, his head turned up the evening sky, his back bowed out with his hands cupped around his mouth howling his little human head off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited a few things

It had been a year since Scott or Stiles, for that matter, had set foot in Beacon Hills. After high school, Scott had gotten in to Boston State on a lacrosse scholarship, and Stiles had followed along because Scott needed a roommate and he wasn't about to let his best friend move across the country without him. It had been a different life for the both of them, away from the supernatural and the near constant impending death. 

On the full moon, Scott drove almost an hour away to a nature preserve to change and run in peace. It was a nice little arrangement, and not once in their college career did they come across anything out of the ordinary. Stiles thought their history professor might have been something other than human since he caught Stiles sleeping every time he tried and much to Scott's amusement would hurl inanimate objects at him until he startled awake.

It was still weird to think this is what normal life was like. Stiles had a hard time turning off his detective mode. He was always looking for things out of the ordinary, trying to connect the dots. It was almost as if Stiles had a harder time leaving Beacon Hills behind than Scott had. They hadn't even come back on holidays, Scott's mom and Sheriff Stilinski had instead made the trip to visit them. Scott had a sneaking suspicion that they had discussed it and thought it might be better if Scott and Stiles stayed away, less chances they'd get sucked into a life or death situation and they'd never get back to this life away from Beacon Hills. Not that Scott didn't miss Beacon Hills. He missed his parents, He missed his pack. He was beyond ready to be home for summer break. 

The plane ride was terrible, mostly because Stiles couldn't be still. Scott returning from his thoughts looked away from the window and at Stiles next to him. Stiles was covered in a sheen of sweat, his leg nervously bouncing against the floor of the plane while his hands gripped the arm rests. He was not a fan of flying. 

"How can you look out the window?!" Stiles hurled the question at Scott, and despite himself, accidently glanced past Scott and into the blue expanse of sky beyond and firmly tossed himself back in his seat, his eyes slamming shut and a grimace on his face. 

" Oh Jesus, we're gonna die. We're trapped in a tin can, forty thousand feet in the air." He managed to get out through his grimace. 

"We're not going to die, Stiles." Scott countered, his voice firm and confident, while he tried not to laugh. "We're almost there. My mom is going pick us up from the airport." Scott said eagerly, while he didn't have a fear of flying he was eager to see his mom and everyone else. 

"Yeah, if she doesn't have to pick up the tiny pieces of us fir-" His words ended in a loud yelp as the plane shook with a slight bit of turbulence. Stiles had renewed his death grip on the armrests. A passing stewardess gave him a worried look but had stopped asking if she could get him anything since he last answered her with "a horse tranquilizer."

Thankfully it didn't take long before the Captain's voice came on over the loudspeaker signaling they had arrived at their destination and that they were about to begin decent. The seatbelt sign flashed on and dinged in response. Scott refastened his, but Stiles had been firmly strapped in since take off.

As the landing gear came down, Stiles' breathing intensified, so did the look of terror on his face as they actually began to land. 

"If you don't stop breathing like that Stiles, you're going to hyperventilate and pass out." Scott said, this time unable to stop himself from laughing. 

"Good, that's what I'm going for." Stiles gasped in response, his hands were turning white where he gripped the armrests with all he had. 

He did manage to calm down once the tires were rolling along the runway he could see the tarmac and grass outside the window. They were still the last ones off the plane. Scott had to just about pry him out of the seat. 

Once they made it to the terminal, Scott immediately began looking for his mom but as he scanned the faces noticed she wasn't one of them. He moved forward, trying to catch her scent in the crowd. Stiles stumbled along behind him, all jelly legged and a little dizzy. He hated flying. 

"Dude, Where's your mom?" Stiles asked, squinting at the crowd trying his best to help locate her. 

"She's not here." Scott replied, fully confident in that since he should've at least been able to smell her. 

"Let's get our bags and head for the parking lot, she's probably just running late." He said, as the pair moved to the baggage claim, Scott grabbing his almost immediately. Stiles on the other hand, missed his twice before Scott had to intervene. 

Walking out into the parking lot, Scott stopped scenting the breeze as it filtered by, but here was still no sign of his mother. He was immediately trying to spot his mom's car but as the breeze picked up, Scott caught familiar scent, a werewolf, and stopped instantly. "Isaac?" He asked, softly, looking around wildly. He couldn't be that far away if Scott could smell him. 

"What? Isaac?" Stiles repeated after him, looking up just in time for a red Volvo to back of a parking space offering both boys a view of familiar black Camaro, they both recognized as belonging to Derek Hale, but it wasn't Derek leaning against the door. It was none other than Isaac Lahey.

"Hiya Boys" Isaac slid the dark sunglasses he was wearing down his nose as his blue eyes settled on Scott and Stiles, his face breaking in a grin. Isaac had changed, actually, he reminded them both more of a younger Derek than either wanted to admit. Dressed in jeans, a white v-neck and black leather jacket, he was exuding confidence. Not only that but Isaac had changed physically, he was taller, more muscular and had more of a tan than either of them ever remembered seeing on Isaac. He looked vibrant, healthy, and even happy.

Scott's surprise was written all over his face, although he couldn't stop himself from returning Isaac's grin. "Isaac!" He said, rushing forward to pull the other werewolf into a quick hug as Isaac pushed away from the car. Stiles hung back, a goofy grin on his face. It was good to see Isaac but still there had been a time when Isaac had been inching in on his best friend territory. 

"Your mom got paged into the hospital." Isaac explained, before Scott had a chance to ask about why he was there and not his mom. "And your dad couldn't get away from the station." He said, looking at Stiles. "Mama Mcall asked me for a favor and here I am." Isaac said, beaming. Truthfully, she'd asked Derek and Derek had sent him but no point in telling that.

Sitting in the back of Derek's black Camaro, Stiles leaned back in the seat and never thought he'd be so happy to be in Derek's car. He'd let Scott ride shotgun, figuring those two wanted to catch up. He was still coming down from all that adrenaline that had flooded his system trying to survive the flight. He leaned his head back and breathed in deep. There was no denying this was Derek's car, even to his puny human nose, it smelled like Derek. 

"Where's Derek?" Stiles asked, not even realizing he was interrupting Isaac and Scott's conversation. Scott gave him a slightly weird look, but Isaac obliged him with an answer.

"He's around." Isaac answered, and knowing his answer was as weak as it got, shrugged. "He said he needed to take care of couple of things." It wasn't as if that answer was much better. "Derek... Well, Derek's changed." Isaac said after a small pause. Thinking on how Derek probably wouldn't like himself being the topic of conversation. 

"He's just different. Especially since Braeden got herself killed in South America. He's always been distant and aloof but it's a lot worse now. He spends more time in his wolf than he does as human. Cora's worried about him." Isaac tried to explain, but he didn't feel like he was doing the best job of it. 

"Cora's back?" Scott asked, intrigued that she was back in Beacon Hills. 

"Cora and Ethan. We're all crashing with Derek. You know he rebuilt the Hale House?" Isaac said, shifting gears as they got out on the open road.

"Yeah, my mom mentioned that. How's Kira?" Scott asked, feeling a little guilty for not keeping as in touch with her like he should have. 

"She's a katana wielding kindergarten teacher." Isaac answered, looking over at Scott with a grin. 

"That's so badass. That's like a superhero movie in the making." Stiles, interjected, grinning as he leaned up to rest against Scott's seat. 

"What about Malia?" Stiles asked, his voice dropping all playfulness. 

"She stayed around for a while, but she kept visiting Peter even when Derek tried to stop her. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree aparently. Derek caught her stalking humans. He sent her away with Satomi." Isaac said quietly, and Stiles got the impression this was a sore subject. He'd left with things not being on the best terms between them but couldn't exactly take a half wild werecoyote across the country with him by his logic she was much better off here with the pack. 

Stiles only nodded his understanding, maybe that was for the best anyway.  
"You know it's Derek's birthday today? Cora is totally making a huge deal out of it too. You two should come by this afternoon. When I left she was literally working on a feast." Isaac said trying to lighten the mood. Derek's birthday, Stiles mused to himself leaning back. He found it hard to imagine Derek celebrating anything. He almost smirked envisioning the sourwolf with a party hat. 

"Cora invited Kira." Isaac said, as if Scott needed any more incentive. It didn't take long for them to make to Stiles house. 

Parking in the driveway, both boys climbed out while Stiles stumbled toward the blue Jeep sitting pristine in the driveway. Sheriff Stilinksi had been taking care of her just like he'd promised. Stiles splayed himself across the hood dramatically while Scott just stood back and watched.

"MY BABY!" Stiles shouted, his cheek flat on the hood. 

Scott turned back to Isaac still idling the Camaro in the driveway. He bent over so that he could see Isaac through the open passenger window. 

"We'll see you later on." 

Stiles' blue Jeep bumped along the unpaved road that led through a section of woods that cut off the Hale house from the rest of Beacon Hills. 

"He really rebuilt it." Scott breathed as the house loomed into view. It was at least three times the size of the original structure and it was almost like the house itself was the brick and mortar equivalent of Derek Hale. It was a strong, sturdy, impenetrable building. A gate blocked their entry, which Scott though odd. He couldn't imagine Derek fencing himself in anywhere. 

Stiles stopped the Jeep beside the keypad and his eyes scanned the plaque above it. The words Hale House were clearly visible and underneath that the words Wildlife Sanctuary, with Sanctuary being slightly larger. Stiles couldn't stop himself from laughing. 

"Oh, that's too good." He turned to look at Scott. "That's a joke, right?" Before he had a chance to respond Stiles had turned back to the keypad, pressing the buzzer and yammering away about how he'd found a lost wolf. The gate swung open for him mid sentence. 

Stopping in front of the house, they both got out, marveling at the newly rebuilt house as Ethan and Isaac descended the steps to greet them. Scott offered a quick hug to Ethan before Isaac led everyone inside, while Stiles kept his distance. 

"It's big." Scott commented, looking around.

"Eight rooms, some with double beds." Cora said, rounding the corner, wiping her hands on a dish towel. 

"Scott!" She exclaimed, bringing him in for a quick hug, before ruffling Stiles' hair. So much for keeping his distance, when Cora was going to snatch him bald. "It's good to see you, punk." She said, smiling brightly and releasing him. 

Stiles wondered silently if that's what Derek looked like when he smiled. As he looked around, just as impressed as Scott was. A werewolf sanctuary, who knew? 

"Is it just you guys?" Stiles asked.

"For now, yeah. We had some of Satomi's pack stopping through last week. Derek wanted to operate this as a safehouse for the supernatural. It's worked out so far." Cora answered, still smiling. 

"So no big bads?" Scott asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Peter's still locked up, Argent disappeared after a peace treaty with Derek and so far there's nothing shown up we couldn't handle." Ethan commented, his confident smile mirroring Cora. 

The deal was that while Scott was gone, Derek would act as protector of Beacon Hills and the Nemeton. It also meant he would deal with whatever it happened to attract.

"It's practically a bore these days. No running for our lives." Isaac joked, and Cora moving to his side took a playful swat at his shoulder that would have knocked over anyone not superhuman. Isaac slipped his arm around her waist and Scott raised an eyebrow. 

"You two?" He asked, grinning.

Isaac grinned sheepishly and that said it all. 

Stiles smiles, genuinely happy for them but he couldn't stop his eyes from seeking out every detail available to them. His interest struck by a partial stone sculpture he could see down the hallway. Noticing Stiles' interest Cora led them to the courtyard, which surrounded a marble sculpture of a wolf. It was large and very clearly the center piece.

The wolf itself was expertly done, pictured in a tall, proud, and protective stance but it was the eyes that drew you in. They were wise and knowing, looking out beyond as if they could see something coming in the distance. Under the wolves' legs played three puppies, unaware and innocent. 

Looking at it, Stiles realized that wolf was the she wolf - Talia and those pups were Derek, Laura and Cora. He also supposed you can see it as a symbol to always be vigilant, and protect those who can't protect themselves. Protect the innocent, the ignorant, from whatever threat climbed the horizon.

At the base of the statue there were names carved into it. Talia, Laura, Boyd, Erica, Aiden and Allison. Stiles' breath caught in his chest. He still felt responsible for her death. Cora noticed Stiles staring at it. 

"Derek needed a way to honor them." Cora explained solemnly. 

The names didn't go unnoticed by Scott either, a hint of red glowing in his eyes as a wave of emotion threatened him. Isaac stepped up and laid a hand on his shoulder. He understood. 

"He's not here?" Scott asked, looking to Cora. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly as if she were trying to focus on a sound. 

"He'll be here soon." She answered, smiling softly. 

"Isaac said that he's changed?" Scott asked, not sure if he should be concerned about that. 

"I don't know how to describe it. It's like he just let go. I think rebuilding this place was sort of therapeutic for him. He's let go of some of that anger. Now he mostly just seems sad, if that's even the right word. He built this house with all these rooms and he's taken the attic as his own. He lives under the same roof as us but gets as far away as he can. It's this detached, aloofness that we deal with now." Cora said, tilting her head in time to catch a black shadow slip through the yard. 

"The closest we get to the old Derek is when Liam is around and pulling the you're not my alpha card." Isaac smiled. 

"I bet that does get the sourwolf riled up." Stiles laughed. 

"You have no idea." A familiar voice sounded behind Stiles, as Derek finally made his appearance while pulling a shirt over his head. 

Stiles startled away from Derek and threatened to lose his balance as Derek's arm shot out in a fraction of a second grabbing Stiles by the shirt and pulling him slightly so that he was steady on both feet before dropping him instantly.

"Stiles." Derek said in greeting, but Stiles didn't miss the hard edge to his voice that told him he still didn't like that nickname. 

Derek turned to Scott, offered his hand in a handshake which Scott returned. "Good to see you, Scott" He said, dipping his head slightly. A sign of respect to the Alpha. 

"Good, you're here, we can eat now." Cora said, moving back toward the inside of the house and kitchen. "Isaac, Ethan, Come help me." She ordered, moving past her older brother, reaching out to squeeze his hand as she passed and he turned his body after her. His care and affection for his sister clear. 

Stiles took a moment to really look at Derek, he didn't look any different but maybe Cora was right. Something seemee different. There was a quietness about him that hadn't been there before. Stiles merely watched and listened as Scott and Derek had a short conversation about the past year and a half. Stiles zoned out, all could think about were the dreams he still had where he saw Derek dying in Mexico, being forced to choose who to save, those dreams always turned back to Allison, and to Lydia screaming. 

Without realizing it, Stiles was staring at Derek but not seeing him. He was lost in his own mind and once again living his experience as the Nogitsune, but it wasn't the vacant stare that attracted Derek's attention. It was the sound of his heart hammering to phantom adrenaline, even to Stiles it sounded like it was about pound out of his chest. Derek's hazel-green eyes turned on him, his expression slightly confused and curious. 

"You alright, Stiles?" Scott asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. His heartbeat was just as loud to Scott apparently. 

"What? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles said, shaking himself out of it. 

Now that he was sufficiently embarrassed, he tried to turn the attention away from him. 

"So it's your birthday? What are you in dog years?" Stiles shook off his ghosts as he teased Derek. It was almost a relief to see the fake sarcastic grin and flash of fangs, a threat so empty it made him nostalgic. 

"Comeon Guys, the food is ready." Cora shouted from inside, as Derek raised his eyebrows, calling for a treaty - it was in everyone's best interest not to keep Cora waiting.

Stiles found himself sitting at Derek's table, reflecting on the fact he was the only human and surrounded by werewolves, both born and bitten. The atmosphere was different, no one was frantically trying to come up with a plan to save someone. It was hard to put into words exactly what it was, an easy contentment? No one was in a hurry to go anywhere. The dark cloud of death and destruction was no longer hanging over their heads. They were free to smile and enjoy the company of friends.

It became evident, even after Derek had no desire to be the Alpha and no longer pursued that power that he was still very much an Alpha and budding patriarch. He sat at the head of the table, and Stiles observed that just like a real pack of wolves, no one so much as lifted a fork until Derek took the first bite. He wondered if anyone even realized they had done it.

Stiles listened to the conversations at the table. He learned that Derek had started a construction company, and Isaac and Ethan worked for him. Cora worked as a bartender downtown at Mike's Sports Bar. Somehow, he could see Cora making an excellent bartender and bouncer, all rolled into one. It was almost like they were superheroes hiding behind their mundane human jobs. Stiles eyes drifted briefly to Scott and wondered what sort of mundane human job he would hide behind.

The afternoon sun was streaming in the windows, bathing the room and its occupants in a golden light. It was almost picturesque. Everyone was seemingly relaxed, except Stiles. There was the incessant shake in his right leg as it bounced under the table and the subconscious nervousness of biting at his thumbnail. It was almost as if this were too good to be true. Any moment that golden light would die, smothered under storm clouds of destruction and all of that light-hearted laughter would turn into screaming.

It made Stiles feel like the odd man out, that he couldn't enjoy this for what it was without expecting the worst. Being back in Beacon Hills would do that to you. His attention broke to Cora as she stood and began to clear away the table and then Isaac when stood to help her. Stiles stole a glance at Derek, wondering silently what he thought about it. It surprised him to say the least when Derek caught his eye. Stiles managed to hold the glance for half a second before he looked away frantically and for some reason the only thing he could manage to focus on was the glass of water in front of him.

"We should go for a run, to celebrate." Ethan suggested from his seat at the table looking over at Derek with a hopeful glance and it sounded more like he was asking permission.

Derek paused for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. That seemed to be the motivation for everyone helping to clear the table. Stiles was the last to pitch in and being the first to ask what exactly a run meant for a bunch of werewolves.

"You know most people celebrate with birthday cake. I'm guessing you don't mean a run for cardio health?" Stiles asked, looking to Ethan but it was Cora who once again took the lead and answered. Those Hales were a dominant bunch.

"Since we have the house and the entire preserve to ourselves, it's good for us to let our wolves out for a little while and run as a pack." She answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Stiles still looked skeptical. "That's definitely a werewolf thing. I'm only running if something is chasing me."

"We can chase you." Isaac piped in, sticking his head out from around the corner that led into the kitchen with a toothy grin that earned a chuckle from Scott.

"That would be a miserably short chase." Derek added before Stiles had a chance to prattle off a comeback. Derek's green eyes flickered to Isaac in a fleeting warning glance. No one was chasing Stiles.

"You can go chase your fucking tail" Stiles fired off at Derek, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he narrowed his eyes. He wasn't really offended, everyone knew he was clumsy and it hadn't gotten better with age. He just couldn't let Derek get away with his jab.

Stiles' comment had Scott snickering behind his hand and mumbling about shots being fired. Ethan almost spit out the drink of water he'd been trying to swallow at that exact moment and even Cora was trying to hide her smile. It'd obviously been a while since someone put the big bad wolf in his place and Stiles couldn't help his chest filling with pride at the fact that someone was him. Putting Derek in his place would never get old.

Stiles' chest promptly deflated the second he locked eyes with Derek. There was a look he hadn't seen in a while. Derek's eyes had darkened with anger, and if looks could kill Stiles would have been obliterated on the spot but it didn't stop there as Derek's wolf rose to the surface his eyes flashing dangerously, a cold hard blue. It caused a wisp of nervousness to flare in his chest and must have readable because Derek backed off immediately, a small proud little smirk on his face that said "I win"

For a second they were very much the old Derek and Stiles and for a moment, it stirred something in Stiles. Something a lot like nostalgia, but that didn't stop him from crossing his arms over his chest in indignation.

Stiles walked out into the yard beside Scott, noticing that the sun had already started to set in the sky and the air was starting to cool. The insects and amphibians had already started to sing a song of early summer. Stiles hesitated by his Jeep a little, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with himself. There was no way he was going running with a bunch of werewolves, that would've been laughable. He figured he'd say his goodbyes and see them off. After all he had to get home at some point, he wanted to see his dad.

"You've only been back half a day and I've seen more of my brother in these last few hours than I have the entire time I've been back." Cora said to Stiles as she walked past, offering him a look of fondness and gratitude.

"What? All I did was piss him off? You should try that more often." Stiles said with a smile, shrugging.

"We've tried. It's more than that. You got him to engage with you. You don't know how rare that is and how much time he spends away from us, just distant." Cora's smile faded into sadness. Derek was the only family she had left and it was clear she was worried for him.  
Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek as he exited the house and was the last person to join them in the yard. Cora had moved away from Stiles and closer to the tree line beside Isaac. They all suddenly looked like runners anxiously waiting at the starting line for the race to start. There was an energy beginning to grow between the werewolves gathered that only intensified as Derek moved closer to the group. 

Even Scott had left Stiles' side edging closer to the tree line, unable to resist the pull of the pack. All the werewolves except Derek were in various stages of the change. Isaac and Cora's eyes glowed yellow in tandem, Isaac was the first to fully change and excitable by the energy that flowed between the group, nipped playfully at Cora who responded by flashing her fangs briefly. Closer to Stiles, Ethan had completed the change, his eyes the same unnerving blue as Derek's as he took a moment to scent the forest ahead of them.

 _Probably looking for something to kill._ Stiles thought, as he turned to Scott who remained entirely human except for the burning red of his eyes. Standing slightly behind the group, he wanted to draw the least amount of attention to himself as possible because at the moment he was once again the acutely aware he was the only human.

Then came Derek who tore his shirt over his head and let it fall to the ground as he walked. His eyes focused on the woods beyond the little group as he passed by Stiles and suddenly Stiles was a little taken back. In the time away from Beacon Hills, he'd forgotten how physically imposing Derek was although he only had half a second to linger on the thought before realizing that Derek was unbuckling his belt.

 _Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!_ Stiles' brain chanted as he remembered that Derek turned into a full-fledged wolf.

 _Derek Hale is about to get naked._ Instinctively, Stiles immediately turned his head, anticipating the nakedness and tried to beat back the flood of embarrassment that tinged his cheeks pink. Still curiosity got the best of him and he raised his eyes. He wanted to see Derek change.

It happened in the blink of an eye without Derek ever actually going full on nude in the process. He watched Derek lean over toward the ground as if he were going to pick something up but went too far and it was turning into a fall. Stiles' brain said he'd catch himself with his hands but when Derek hit the ground it wasn't with hands but paws. It was the best magic trick Stiles had ever seen. He stood there his mouth agape as the exceedingly large black wolf walked out of the jeans and shook its glossy black coat.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for the other patrons of the Hale house but Stiles was internally freaking out. It definitely wasn't like the movies, all pain and rearranging bones. Stiles was still gaping incredulously at the black wolf as if he wasn't sure it was real. Derek raised his head to the sky and howled. At first it was single forlorn sound that made the hairs on Stiles' arm stand up and one by one the rest of the werewolves lent their voices.

Wolves howl for all sorts of reasons, to establish their territory, to locate other members of their pack, to hunt, but tonight it was all about reestablishing a bond. The bond that tied them together as pack in the first place. Each of their voices weaved in and out like fish slipping against one another in a stream. Each voice wove together to form a tapestry of song that was coherent, but suddenly there was another voice added to the mix, another fish in the stream. A voice that didn't exactly belong, that was harsh and grating to his wolf ears, but that's what made it special. Derek cut his eyes to see Stiles, his head turned up the evening sky, his back bowed out with his hands cupped around his mouth howling his little human head off. 

Derek was awash with amusement and something else, he'd never admit it, but there was a fondness for the human that never thought twice about challenging him on anything or throwing himself headlong into danger to save someone. At first, Derek had tried to scare the little human boy away, partly because he was annoying and partly because he wanted to save Stiles from what a life entangled in the supernatural could entail but Derek failed miserably in that. After the Nogitsune, Derek began to see Stiles' differently, there was no hope of saving the boy who could have been, there was only what was left of him after a 900 year old demon spirit had used him to hurt everyone he cared about, killing Allison. Derek recognized the guilt and pain he felt after Paige, in Stiles. He knew that Stiles blamed himself but the difference between them was that Stiles had no choice in the matter. Derek felt he had more in common with the defenseless human Stiles than he did with the rest of the pack which is why over time, their dynamic changed. 

With a renewed breath, Derek's howl rose in pitch, matching Stiles. It was Derek's way of showing that he was very much a part of the pack. Stiles' might have missed the implications, but it was loud and clear in werewolf ears. As the howling died away, Cora, Isaac and Ethan looked to Derek waiting for him to start the run but instead, Derek looked pointedly at Scott and nodded his head. Scott was the true Alpha, Derek just filled in while he wasn't around. Taking the hint, Scott sprinted off with the others hot on his heels. Derek gave them a few seconds head start before loping gracefully after them.

Stiles watched them all disappear in the treeline, grinning stupidly. That energy was infectious and for the first time since coming home, it surprised him to realize he was content to be here. Stiles waited until he could no longer see or hear any of them and turned away the woods, looking back toward the empty Hale house. 

Stiles realized how lonely it was, now in its vastness with no occupants to breathe life into it. It made him think about Derek, and he wondered why he had chosen to stay, when he could move to somewhere that didn't hold the memories Beacon Hills did. He wouldn't be living in a grand mausoleum, because wasn't that the Hale house really was? Knowing Derek, it was duty and honor, more than once he had heard him say that Beacon Hills was his town and his responsibility to watch over it. It's what the Hale pack did. 

Realizing there was no need for him to stay, Stiles headed for the Jeep. He'd taken two steps toward it when he heard the bushes at the treeline rustle. Stiles turned to look, only to see the large black wolf that was Derek step out and pad across the lawn toward him. 

"Derek?" Stiles asked hesitantly, as the wolf stopped just a few yards in front of him. 

The wolf growled, which Stiles took as a good sign to confirm he was being answered. Still he wasn't sure how much was animal and how much was Derek. A thought that flared to life when the growling intensified, the hackles rising along the wolf's back as he pressed toward Stiles his teeth bared. 

Stiles was nearing panic mode. He knew it, Derek really did turn into a full on man-eating wolf and there was no one else around to stop it from happening. 

"Der-ek" Stiles said slowly, breaking his name into syllables as he stepped back, maybe if he could get to the Jeep, he could at least have a chance to get the baseball bat before wolf Derek ripped his face off. He took another step back and the wolf took a step forward in advancement. 

Stiles went to take another step back and tripped, stumbling back until he fell on his ass. He found himself looking into those harsh blue eyes, and found no humanity in them. The wolf opened his jaws and Stiles tried to scoot away in a mad scramble, and realizing the futility of it, screwed his eyes shut raising his arms above his face in a protective gesture. 

Only to hear very human laughter. Stiles' eyes snapped open to see Derek walking away from him, off to the retrieve his clothes. 

"DAMN IT DEREK HALE!" Stiles flailed around in his anger, kicking dirt after him. 

"That wasn't funny, you asshole." Stiles sputtered after him, as coherent as he could be as he pushed himself off the ground. His anger propelling him after Derek. 

He closed the distance between them just as Derek buttoned his pants, but none of that computed in Stiles' brain. He just wanted to punch Derek in the face. At the last second, right before Stiles would have the satisfaction of grabbing his shoulder and forcing Derek around to face him; Derek turned on him first and Stiles lost his nerve. 

Derek Hale was even more imposing up close and in person, he was a wall of muscle and strength. If Stiles was being honest, punching him would hurt Stiles a lot more than it would Derek. Instead, Stiles opted to shove him. Stiles put every bit of his strength and force behind it, only to be disappointed when Derek took exactly two steps back, and in fact, didn't go flying into the dirt. 

"Stiles." Derek said, his tone reprimanding. "You were never in any danger." He added, as if that would make everything alright. 

"Well I don't know that, do I? Stiles asked indignantly.

"You should." Derek countered, and that shut Stiles up for a second. 

Derek took advantage of that second by picking his shirt up off the ground, giving it a shake before climbing back into it. 

"Why did you come back? Why didn't you go running with the rest of them?" Stiles asked, wondering if maybe his sole purpose was to try and give him a heart attack, or maybe he just wasn't feeling the pack thing? It seemed like this had been a lot of socializing for Derek, if you went by what Cora said. 

"Seemed wrong to leave you all alone. Besides, knowing that if I left you alone, you'd end up snooping around where you aren't supposed to." Derek said, looking back to the forest, listening to any indication that any of the others realized he had turned back. 

"Come on. There's a lot of food left, you can make your dad a plate and take it with you." Derek said, walking past Stiles towards the door.

Stiles took a moment to process this information, Derek Hale wanted him to take food back to his dad? He went from asshole to decent human being in exactly two seconds flat. He followed after Derek. His brown eyes squinting as brain flashed through the implications. 

"Is this something you do often? I mean I know we didn't really have sit down meals at home before I left for school." It dawned on Stiles, what life must be like for his dad without him around. He probably works far too much, and he didn't cook much while Stiles was there so he could just imagine how unhealthy his dad's eating habits were. He couldn't help imagining his dad as lonely, but imagining Derek hand delivering his dad dinner did make him grin though. 

"I send Cora and Isaac by sometimes to check on him." Derek answered, but what he left out was that Derek Hale kept a closer watch on the Sheriff then he let on. Derek had taken to late night patrols through Beacon Hills and stopping by the Stilinksi residence just to make everything was alright was something he never missed. 

"Thank you." Stiles said, his voice touched by earnestly as he followed Derek inside. 

"You're part of the pack Stiles, that makes your family my responsibility too. Just like Scott's mom." Derek turned to face Stiles, just to make sure he understood that Derek meant what he said. 

Hearing that Derek felt it was his responsibility to watch over their families while Scott and Stiles weren't around made him smile. Derek might not have the red eyes of an Alpha, but he was well and truly an Alpha. Honestly, it made him feel a lot better about this going to school on the opposite coast thing. 

Suddenly and without warning, his guilt came full circle to smack him in the face again. The smile faded from his face. He didn't deserve to be part of the pack. He bit the inside of his mouth nervously and instead of following Derek into the kitchen, he found himself retracing his steps back to the garden and the statue of the wolf. 

He just stood there, staring at the unwavering expression in the stone wolf's eyes. It was as if it were looking right through him, seeing to the core of his being. The core that was tainted, souring with guilt and lingering grief. He reached out, touching the wolf's head and feeling smooth stone under his hand.

Derek listened closely as Stiles' direction changed and instinctively, he followed, curious as to what had Stiles' attention. He stopped behind Stiles, tilting his head slightly, watching and really focusing on him to the point he could hear his breathing, his hear beat. He inhaled deeply, scenting the air. He usually didn't care what people felt, or out of respect didn't scent them, because in all honesty, scenting someone was invading their privacy. He easily picked up on the acrid smell of anxiety, layered with the heaviness of sadness.

His green eyes followed Stiles' hand as reached up to touch the statue, he was so solely focused on Stiles, he could hear the stone scrape against his fingertips. Derek took a step closer. 

"You aren't okay." He didn't bother asking if Stiles was, because Stiles would lie and say he was when Derek knew the lie. 

Stiles took a deep breath, his eyes falling to ground. "I don't deserve to be a part of the pack. I've hurt people, I've ..." His voice trailed off, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Derek. 

Derek knew what Stiles was trying to say, he knew that he blamed himself for Allison. Much like Derek blamed himself for his family.

"And I haven't?" Derek made no effort to hide the pain in his own voice, as his eyes lingered on the names etched in stone. He felt responsible in some degree for each one of their deaths, but the one that bothered him the most, Boyd. Being forced to take the life of his own Beta, it had changed him. 

"You can't blame yourself for what the Nogitsune did." He said, although he had accepted the fact his words were falling on deaf ears.

"If something happened to me, would you put my name on the statue?" Stiles asked, in a voice unusually quiet. 

"Yes." Derek answered without hesitation. 

Stiles finally looked up at him and Derek was waiting to meet his gaze. The stare intensified, almost daring Stiles to try to challenge him on this. 

A distant howl echoed in the sky over the preserve breaking the silence between them. Derek's head snapped to the sound. 

"Scott." Derek said urgently, "Something's not right." Derek tore his way through the house toward the lawn with Stiles quick on his heels.


	2. Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day back and things are already getting crazy for Scott and Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked this chapter there's a lot going on. Sorry this one took so long to get up, I can't write short chapters. Sorry for not coming up with a more original name for the "science experiments gone wrong" I totally think the name was Isaac's idea. The most basic thing he could relate them to and the others just run with it. Stiles' nightmares are a regular occurrence but god bless Derek trying to help. You have no idea how amused I was to throw in the Miguel thing. Please take the time to comment, that makes me happy.

Scott breathed in deeply, the forest felt alive. He could smell the change in the air as the sun departed the sky, leaving the world bathed in the gentle gray of dusk. He could feel the breeze that rustled the trees, causing their branches to scrape and the leaves to whistle. Scott and his company of werewolves were nothing but a blur of motion through the trees as they ran, each feeding off the energy of the other. He didn’t have to look to see where they were, he could feel them. It felt good, the crunch of leaf litter under his feet; the thrill of the chase even if it was nothing more than Cora’s shadow. Everything was familiar to him here, this smelled like home. It was easy to let his human mind drift, and let the wolf take over.

Before he realized it, Scott was leading them to the Nemeton, his wolf drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Who knows how long he had been running, letting the wolf who had long been denied this kind of freedom, take control. He was, in the back of his mind, aware that Derek was no longer with them. At some point he had went his own way. He slowed and finally stopped as the Nemeton came into view. It looked deceptively harmless, but Scott could feel the power rolling off it in waves.

He felt the rest of the werewolves stop when he did, all betas were compelled to follow their alpha. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to resume the run but something didn’t feel right. That was when he got his first glimpse of it, in the fraction of a second that his brain had to process what he was seeing, he could only describe it as a shadow. It was tall, even at this distance and wrong. All wrong because it was detached from anything physical that should have cast the warped humanoid frame it took. It was eerie, and even in that fleeting glance before it vanished produced a cold sense of dread that welled deep inside him.

_~vous serez mienne~_

Equally as detached as the shadow was the whispered voice in his mind that wasn’t his own. Like a thin trail of smoke through a clenched fist, it was gone.

“Did you hear that?” Scott asked, looking around wildly at the group searching for some validation that he wasn’t the only one but was met with confused looks.

“Hear what?” Ethan asked, moving closer.

“There was a voice, just now and I thought I saw something over there.” Scott said rattled, but motioned to the place where he had seen the shadow.

True nightfall was fast approaching, and somehow the forest that had been so warm and welcoming had morphed into something sinister. Cora not taking chances stepped closer, scented the forest as she walked before stopping abruptly, her dark hair whipping around her face as she turned back the boys.

“Toads.” She said, in a tone that should explain everything.

As Scott watched, pale sickly yellow ets of eyes creeped in the coming darkness.

“What the hell are toads?” Scott asked, thinking if those sets of eyes were anything to go by, those were not the docile little amphibians the name brought to mind.

“That’s what we started calling them.” Isaac explained, moving closer to the group.

“They started showing up a few months ago, we thought the Nemeton attracted them. They’re pretty skittish of us and we’ve been driving them away. They aren’t much a problem on their own, but they get brave in numbers. Be careful, they like to jump and they’ve got sharp, nasty little teeth.” Isaac added, a low little grow now emanating from his chest.

More sets of eyes gleamed in the darkness, there was the distinct shuffle of wary movements. As if they were hesitant to move closer, but eager to test how far they could get. It was then Scott got his first glimpse of these “toads” and he could understand how they got the name. They looked more like a science experiment gone wrong. They were the size of an overgrown house cat with ugly, lumpy skin that resembled a toad in coloration and texture. They moved all fours, squat round creatures, with their face comprised of large yellow eyes and wide mouths unable to close around rows of long needle-like teeth.

The first, and undeniably most brave, of those edging closer jumped at Cora, it’s wicked teeth bared. She easily batted it away with a clawed hand but that did nothing against the three that leapt in tandem spurred on by the bravery of that first toad.

The scene quickly delved into chaos, as the others swarmed over the small collection of werewolves, each of them fighting off as many as they could, only for the toads they dislodged to be replaced by a fresh pair for teeth.

Isaac yelped as a toad bit into the tendon at his back of his ankle, dropping him to one knee as a swarm leapt at his face, teeth sinking into his cheek, just shy of its intended mark, his eye. His pained cry drew Cora’s attention and she immediately came to his rescue as she ripped the toad away from his face with such ferocity, it left a few fangs still lodged in his cheek. She dropped defensively in front of Isaac, a defiant roar of challenge.

Ethan and Scott weren’t faring much better, they had managed to get Ethan off balance and now with his back on the ground he was fighting to keep them away from his throat. Scott was bleeding from multiple bites to his head and neck, his own blood had ran into his eyes and it was making it hard to see. Where the hell was Derek? Scott loosed a call into the night sky but he knew they needed to get out of there and back to the house.

Scott fought his way to Ethan, pulling him up off the ground while several sets of teeth sank into his calf.

“RUN!” He ordered Ethan, pushing him toward the direction of the Hale house. He turned to Cora and Isaac giving the same instruction. Cora however, was not willing to admit defeat and it took both Isaac and Scott to pull her away.

They all ran as hard and fast as they could, weaving through trees, crashing through streams with the ever present chirps of excitement sounding from the horde of creatures hot on their trail.

By the time the lights from the Hale house came into view, exhaustion was setting in for all of them, Isaac now hobbling on his injured foot. As Scott neared the tree line he could see Derek running to meet them and Stiles right behind him.

Derek could smell those vile little creatures long before the rest of his pack broke the tree line. He could see the gleaming eyes rushing toward him, threatening to set foot in this place. Threatening to defile this sanctuary, his territory with their disgusting unnatural bodies. His wolf was snarling, ripping at the cage of his human body, fighting to be set loose on them.

Scott and the rest ran past him, as Derek continued forward his shoulders set in a line that promised violence. His face transformed, his eyes blazing blue as he bellowed a roar when the hoard pressed closer, a sound that carried for miles and even before the echo died the hoard had slowed to a stop. It was as if they recognized this werewolf, and collectively rethought their decision on inciting his rage. Quietly they fell away, their glowing eyes bleeding away back into the forest.

“They’re afraid of him.” Scott said, breathless with exertion as he watched.

Derek’s wolf wanted to charge after them, chase them away from here. It took more effort than he cared to admit when he forced himself to turn back, facing his friends and family. It had been a long time since Derek hadn’t given in to what the wolf wanted and this simple act of defiance made him question briefly who was really in control.

“It _is_ Derek. He can be scary.” Stiles added dryly, his tone something akin to what-did-you-expect? As his own eyes watched the werewolf suspiciously for a moment, he was clever enough to catch the barest hints of expression on Derek’s face but there was no way to piece together what it meant.

“What were those things?” Stiles asked, eyeing Scott’s bite marks that were visibly healing. Scott gave him the cliff notes version of what happened in the forest.

“Oh so now we’ve got werefrogs, this is just getting better and better.” Stiles was unable to keep his sarcasm in check. They had literally been back a day, and something was already trying to eat his friends.

“No. They aren’t were-anything, they don’t change back after they’re dead.” Derek said definitively, causing Scott and Stiles to exchange glances that mirrored one another. Since when did Derek run around killing things? No wonder those things were afraid of him. 

Derek moved to check on Cora, but as he reached to inspect the bite marks along her arm she slapped his hand away. 

“I’m not a child, I’m fine.” She hissed, and Derek didn’t try again. 

Instead he moved to Isaac, kneeling beside him and inspecting his ankle, just to be sure it was healing. He gave a questioning look to Ethan, who nodded that he was okay to Derek. Stiles watched, thinking how different this Derek was, from the one who made Erica and Boyd. That had been Derek playing at Alpha, but now without that spark, he was more of an Alpha than he had ever been. 

“I saw something out there. There was this creepy shadow, just standing out there, in the woods. It was shaped like a person, but there was no one around but us. As fast as I noticed it, it vanished and I heard something. Like a voice, in my head. It wasn’t in english, I didn’t understand it.” Scott said, volunteering the information to the group. 

“Oh that is fucking great, not only do we have mutant frogs, but Slenderman too? This day just keeps on getting better.” Stiles threw up his hands, his jaw setting but it was clear his mind was in hyperdrive trying to process this new information. Although the prospect of disembodied shadows lurking around did score fairly high on the scale of terrifying. 

“There were more toads than I’ve seen at any given time.” Ethan injected, looking from Scott to Derek.

“So is it connection or coincidence that they showed up after Scott saw Slenderman? Stiles asked, his natural curiosity overriding sarcasm, but no one immediately volunteered an answer.

“I think we should meet with Deaton at the animal clinic in the morning, let him know what happened, what I saw.” Scott said, taking a quick around the group to make sure everyone was in agreement.

After that the group dispersed, Derek going missing almost immediately which made Scott frown. Was he going after those things? He turned his attention to Isaac who walked them to Stiles’ jeep.

“Since when does he just kill things?” Scott asked Isaac, who audibly sighed at the question. They all knew how Scott felt about killing.

“I told you Derek changed, when he… evolved, or whatever, the wolf got a lot a stronger and I don’t think he expected to have issues with control. Not for someone who has spent their entire life being a werewolf. Cora says he’s still trying to find a balance. He’s just more instinctual? I guess that’s the word. The toads were a threat, and he dealt with it exactly the way a wolf would.” Isaac tried to explain, but it was easy to see he didn’t feel like he was doing the explanation any justice. He should have let Cora explain it.

“So the second most powerful werewolf in California, possibly in this entire half of the United States, is having control problems? That’s what you’re telling me.” Stiles said, recalling images of his previous encounter with Derek as a wolf.

 

The ride home was unusually quiet. Stiles supposed neither one of them expected to fall into some supernatural bullshit this early out of the gate. At least it gave his overactive mind something to focus on. He barely heard Scott once he did start talking, something about how he wanted to see Kira.

After dropping off Scott and driving home, he was surprised to see that his dad still hadn’t made it home. He unlocked the door and stepped inside letting the familiar smell of home hit him. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

He walked into the kitchen, flipping on the light as he made his way to the refrigerator. He noticed a hurried note scribbled on the back of a receipt in his father’s handwriting duct taped to the door. The very roll of tape it belonged to was still sitting on the counter.

_Emergency at work. Will be late. Left food in the fridge._

Stiles opened the refrigerator to see a greasy brown paper rolled up and placed hastily in the center. He wasn’t hungry at all, but still grabbed the bag to look inside. A found a cold burger neatly wrapped at the bottom of the bag, he already knew it was from the Diner just down the street from the police station. If he hadn’t just stuffed himself hours before on Cora’s cooking he would have devoured the thing. That diner had the best burgers in Beacon Hills. Unwrapping it, he took a big obligatory bite, before wrapping it back up and making sure he stuck it back in a different spot in the refrigerator.

He grabbed a bottle of water to wash it down with and made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. In a way it was like opening a time capsule. Everything was the same except him. He hadn’t bothered to take anything down, or change much before he left. The same posters on his wall, his bed still made exactly the same way he had left it.

Without thinking, he fell back on the bed and let himself bounce once with the momentum as the mattress springs gave a harsh groan. Folding his hands behind his head stared up at the ceiling for a moment allowing his brain to work over the events of the night but he still kept coming back Derek. Part of him thought once things calmed down he would be able to make some sort of peace and find a life worth living but it bothered him that Derek seemed so distant and alone.

The guy had been through enough, Stiles decided. He thought about the black wolf that had crept towards him and the coldness in those glowing blue eyes devoid of any spark of humanity, but then his thoughts absently drifted to a near naked Derek Hale. It was comforting to know that at least that hadn’t changed, Derek Hale still held the title of most attractive werewolf he had ever seen and Stiles had laid his eyes on a lot of werewolves. He was momentarily distracted by his healthy appreciation of Derek’s physique when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Fishing it out, he tapped the screen seeing a text from Parker, his Chem II lab partner inviting him out. He thought about whether he would take him up on that offer if he were back at school. Probably, he decides. Being out of Beacon Hills had forced him to be a little more trusting of people, but it took a while to dispel his suspicions. He had to be sure Parker wasn’t planning to kill anyone he cared about first. Beacon Hills could really fuck you up on future relationships.

He tapped out a quick reply, explaining that he had went back home for the summer and would need to raincheck with a little winking emoticon made out of semicolon and parenthesis. He immediately regretted it, what in the hell would that imply? He was reading far too much into a text.

He decided not to worry about it for the moment. If he had a superpower it was probably his ability to worry, but he was exhausted. It had been a long day and a lot of time zones since he first boarded the flight back to Beacon Hills. He opened his bag and decided to put away the clothes. It felt weird to live out of luggage in your own house. Once that was finished he opened the window by his computer desk, for no other reason than to let in fresh air and wash away that stale smell of a room closed up and unused.

After a quick shower, he settled down into his bed looking over to the bedside clock realizing it was after midnight. He laid there for a long moment looking at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars and planets still stuck on his ceiling so old that by now they barely glowed at all. Movement from the curtains blowing lazily in the night air caught his attention. The only real light source was the clear cold light from the security lamp in their elderly neighbor’s back yard. Stiles didn’t mind it at all. If anything it drove away the oppressing darkness that Stiles had come to hate. Closing his eyes, it didn’t take long before his exhaustion caught up and he was asleep.

In the wee hours of the morning everything about Beacon Hills is quiet. Lonely pairs of headlights in the distance is the only indication of life. That’s the way Derek likes it best, void of all the harsh noise of daily human life. Silently, he stood checking to be sure the coast was clear before the black wolf trotted quietly across the openness of empty road toward the Stilinski house. He had been patrolling since the group separated at the Hale house. He patrolled the preserve tracking the “toads” but never catching sight of anything. He moved his patrol further out including the residential areas of Beacon Hills, where both Scott and Stiles lived.

Everything was quiet and peaceful but that didn’t stop Derek from giving the perimeter a once over. He kept his head down, scenting the different smells as he moved quickly identifying both Stiles and the Sheriff. No one unusual, at least. He moved around to the back of the house continuing until he moved to the side of the house Stiles’ bedroom occupied. That’s when Derek noticed his window open. The wolf stopped dead in his tracks. Leaving his window open might have been harmless in Boston, but in Beacon Hills, it was basically an invitation for something terrifying to come in and eat you.

Derek growled his annoyance, the sound grating against the silence. There went the rest of his night. He fought the urge to jump in the window and scare Stiles shitless. That would teach him to leave the window open, but he’d already worried the kid once tonight and thought better of it. 

Instead he moved closer to the edge of the house and settled down his back against the foundation. He could at least keep an eye on things until the Sheriff got up, Derek knew him to be an early riser. He settled down resting his head over his paws, his nose inches from the dirt. His ears swiveled at any and every sound but finally focused on things inside of the house. He could hear Stiles’ heartbeat, strong and steady, he could even hear the sound of the bed sheets when he rolled over. He could also hear a second heartbeat, slower but just as steady coming from what he assumed must be the living room, probably the couch.

Minutes bled into hours, and eventually even he wasn’t immune to exhaustion. At some point the wolf closed his eyes and drifted, but the sound of scraping metal had him snapping awake. He lifted his head, his ears focused on the sound as he watched a stray cat jump out of their neighbor’s trash. It began to stalk across the yard headed for the Stilinksi’s trashcan but stopped abruptly catching the werewolf’s scent. He bared his teeth and the cat scrambled away. He stood up to stretch, having lain in one position for far too long.

The sky was already beginning to lighten, dawn wasn’t far off. He listened closely to the sounds inside of the house, thinking he might have missed the Sheriff. He found the Sheriff’s heartbeat exactly in the same place as before, clearly still asleep. He focused instead on Stiles, whose heartbeat had picked up considerably. Derek looked up at the window for any sign of movement. Now that he was paying attention he could smell the faint trace of fear, bitter and tainted with anxiety. Something was wrong. The wolf paced under the window, a growl growing in his throat at the perceived threat to someone in his pack.

He backed away, gauging if he could make the jump. Not without help. Without a second thought he trotted to the neighbor’s trash can and pushed it over as quietly as he could using his body to push it closer to the window to provide leverage. Once it was place, the wolf took the jump at run, bounding not half as quiet as he intended on the trashcan and sailing effortlessly through Stiles’ open window. He landed with a muffled thud, immediately taking a fighting stance, his hackles standing on end, his lip peeled away in a silent snarl, but he was met with nothing but an empty room. There was no immediate threat, nothing to kill.

At that realization, Derek calmed down and felt a little silly since Stiles clearly wasn’t actively being murdered. For a half second he debated whipping around and sailing right back out that window that was until he realized Stiles was mumbling. Curiously, the wolf’s ears trained on Stiles as he crept forward cautiously. The closer he got, Derek realized that fear and anxiety were rolling off of Stiles in waves so thick it was nearly overwhelming.

_He’s dreaming._

Derek thought, moving close enough he could see Stiles, drenched in his own cold sweat, muttering incoherently through a nightmare. This he didn’t know how to fix, short of waking him up and that wasn’t going to happen. Derek wasn’t sure would ever live that down but, he couldn’t leave Stiles like this. 

Nightmares were something he understood, and had his own fair share of. He watched Stiles’ hand jerk spastically away from him, as if he were trying to push something away. Suddenly and without warning, Stiles sat up in the bed causing the werewolf to startle away. Derek knew for sure that he had been caught but Stiles didn’t acknowledge him and on closer inspection, Derek discovered Stiles was still asleep, still dreaming.

_Jesus Christ!_

The words came out of Derek’s throat in a small growl. His vocal cords were not designed for human speech, not while in this form. There was long tense moment before Stiles sank back down into the bed turning on his side so that he was facing Derek. He watched Stiles’ face contort with his nightmare, he could hear his heart hammering against his ribs. 

Carefully, and silently with every ounce of supernatural stealth he had been awarded, Derek crept toward the bedside. Against his better judgment he moved in close, pushing his chest against the side of the bed while he let his chin rest harmlessly on the mattress.

Everything smelled like Stiles, it wasn’t just the fear and anxiety he could smell this close, but everything. Everything that made Stiles who he was, the scent that no matter where he was or what was happening would always belong to Stiles. He slid his muzzle and cheek along Stiles’ outstretched arm.

Suddenly, Derek Hale, the second most powerful werewolf in California was the most non-threatening thing in the world. Stiles’ hand unconsciously buried in the fur of his neck, past the coarse guard hairs and outer coat and into the warm, soft undercoat close to his skin. Stiles all but pulled himself closer to Derek. So close that the glow from Derek’s blue eyes reflected on Stiles’ face. He could feel Stiles relax, and see it in the way his face softened.It was then he thought to slip away unnoticed.

He started to back away slowly, but as if the sleeping Stiles could sense that this new source of warmth was slipping away, he followed it. Stiles drew the wolf in with both hands much like a frightened child with a stuffed animal. Derek went deathly still, a tiny seed of panic blossoming at the thought of how he was going to get out of this.

He stood tense and still like that for minutes, waiting for a deeper cycle of sleep that would loosen Stiles’ grip. It didn’t get that far however, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow on the opposite wall. Just like Scott had described, humanoid but there was nothing in the room casting it. Derek’s instincts took over and he tore himself free of Stiles and launched himself at the shadow.  


Stiles couldn’t tell you what it was he’d been dreaming, only that it was dark and terrifying. Dark shapes moving behind his eyes, whispers of destruction, promises of death and his role in it. He couldn’t have told you what happened when all of that shifted into something he could remember either.

He dreamt about a forest, green and lush, a living thing. The sun was warm on his face. Everything was tranquil. There was nothing lurking in the shadows waiting to take him. He was safe here. He could smell pine, fir and cedar. He could smell earth and a dampness in the air akin to rain. He could feel something alive and wild. It was odd but comforting.

It was quite a shock to be pulled from it. He had no way of knowing that it was Derek pulling himself free of Stiles that was culprit. It took his whiskey colored eyes to focus on what he was seeing with fear and sleep convoluting. Fear spiked through him at seeing an angry, snarling wolf in his room and it took a second to realize it wasn’t focused on him. It took him a fraction of a heartbeat to notice the shadow, eerie and detached, just as Scott had described it.

He couldn’t stop the cold sense of debilitating dread it inspired but almost as quickly as he noticed it, it was evaporating away. Derek reared up, deadly claws ripping down the dry wall and shadow alike, which would have most certainly incapacitated anything flesh and blood.

In the end, it was for nothing, the shadow vanished, leaving Stiles with nothing but an angry werewolf in his room.

“Derek?” He asked, a little shaken between the nightmare and Slenderman showing up in his bedroom.

The wolf was staring at the spot on the wall where the shadow had vanished, turning only slightly as Stiles said his name. Derek refused to look at him, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at having been discovered in Stiles’ room. Without so much as a look behind him, Derek jumped out the window to a hard landing before scrambling across the yard and the neighbor’s showing little concern for anything in his path in his desire to get to the safety of the trees.

Looking down at his hands, he noticed the tuft of black fur in the palm of his hand. Stiles launched himself out of his bed, and to the open window, a bit of a delayed reaction since Derek was long gone.

“Derek, wait!” He shouted at nothing.

Deciding that sleeping any more was totally out of the question, he showered again, which he needed, and dressed before heading downstairs. His father was still asleep on the couch, still in his uniform. He obviously had a long night too.

Stiles made his way to their kitchen, and as quiet as he could be started a pot of coffee and set to scrambling them both a couple of eggs for breakfast. The sounds and smell of breakfast brought his dad out of living room and into the kitchen. Stiles grinned fondly at his dad’s sleep disheveled appearance. He dropped the spatula and made his way across the kitchen to draw his dad in a giant hug. He had missed him, more than he wanted to admit.

“Oh God, Dad! You are rank. You need a shower, bad.” Stiles pulled away from him, his expression all mock disgust.

“Yeah, yeah, let me eat first, will you?” The Sheriff reached up to tussle Stiles’ hair, just like he had done since he could remember. 

Stiles moved to get plates, and filled them scrambled eggs before turning off the burner and setting their plates on the table.

John Stilinksi moved to fix himself a cup of coffee before sitting in his customary seat. Stiles poured himself a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee.

Their extremely rare father-son breakfast was cut short however, when someone came knocking ruthlessly on their front door.

“I’ll get it.” John said, sliding back his chair and heading for the door.

The Sheriff opened the door to Mrs. Kellerman, their elderly neighbor, whose expression was no longer the sweet little old lady next door, but hell hath no fury scorned.

“Can I help you?” John asked, pensively.

“Your dog destroyed my garden.” She said matter of factly, “And I want to know what you’re going to do about?”

“We don-“ The Sheriff started, but Stiles was already tripping over himself to get the door.

“Oh yeah, our dog, Miguel.” He said, out of breath with the effort, but trying to disguise the lie in a bluster of confidence. He even put his hands on his hips for effort. He didn’t have to look at his dad to see the what-in-the-hell look he was getting.

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll be over this afternoon and I’ll clean everything up for you.” Stiles offered, his words rushed. He was ready to get rid of Mrs. Kellerman before he had to explain anything. 

His offer was seemed satisfactory and she told him to swing by at four, no earlier, because she had to catch her soap operas. Stiles nodded vigorously in agreement, before John shut the door and turned that bug-under-a-microscope glare on Stiles.

“Our dog, huh?” John Stilinski asked, daring Stiles to bullshit him but he said no more, heading back into the kitchen to finish breakfast. 

Stiles followed along behind him, making a mental note that if nothing else he was going to blackmail the sourwolf into helping him at four o’clock. 

Sitting back down at the table, Stiles was eager to get his father on a different train of thought. 

“So what was the emergency?” Stiles asked, forking a bite of eggs.  
For half a second, John Stilinski thought about answering that it was none of his business but Stiles wasn’t a child anymore. 

“Suspected murder. I’m fairly sure the victim was a werewolf. There was a lot of blood, too much blood but no body. There were claw marks, whoever it was put up a fight. Right now, we’re calling an animal attack.” The Sheriff gave his son a sarcastic glance. 

“When you see Scott or Derek, tell them to keep an eye out.” John said, finishing up his eggs. He left Stiles at the table as put the dish in the sink. 

“I’m gonna shower and had into the station for a few hours. I’ll be home this afternoon.” He said, clasping Stiles on the shoulder as he passed him on his way to his bedroom. 

Stiles was mulling over the new information his father had fed him. A possible dead werewolf on the same night as all the other crazy shit. He wasted no time dumping his own dishes in the sink before grabbing the keys to his Jeep. He was probably going to be early to the animal clinic but he couldn’t just keep this to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while for me to get up, I went through a small period of doubt, but I'm back to it. This chapter is mostly Stiles/Derek. Let me know what you think.

Stiles was in a rush to get to the animal clinic. The Jeep skidded to a stop on the gravel, going too fast for the parking lot in the first place. He immediately noticed Derek’s camaro which meant that Isaac and Cora were there, possibly Derek, the only other vehicle was Scott’s dirt bike. 

He wasted no time throwing himself out of the Jeep and jogging to the entrance. Following voices, he let himself in the back room. Isaac, Cora and Ethan were there, so was Scott and surprisingly, Liam. Stiles nodded a quick greeting to Deaton as the veterinarian caught his eye. There was a distinctive lack of Derek. 

“Scott, tell me again what it was you heard?” Deaton asked softly. 

Scott attempted to repeat the words he’d heard whispered in his head the night before, but he butchered it. 

“vous serez mienne” Deaton corrected, “It’s french, you will be mine.” He translated, a perplexed look taking his over expression as he looked at Scott. 

All of their expressions mirrored confusion as they looked to their Alpha. No one had a chance to speak because it was that moment that Derek decided to make an appearance through the back entrance and deposit the black trash bag he was carrying over his shoulder on the examination table. 

“Nice of you to show up now, and bearing gifts too.” Cora broke the silence, her voice dripping with enough sarcasm to make Stiles grin. She spoke to her brother like he was the only one in the room. The hint of challenge in her voice was enough to cause Derek to look up at his little sister from under his brows and meet her challenging stare. 

“Good to know you aren’t dead in the woods somewhere since you couldn’t be bothered to come home last night, or let anyone know where you were.” Cora’s concern was sincere, but it did little to lessen the lash of her words. For a few seconds, brother and sister were locked in a challenging stare. Isaac dropped his eyes, he took a step back away from Cora while Stiles cleared his throat slightly. 

Derek never broke eye contact with his sister as he bypassed the time it would take to open the bag by untying it, and ripped it open dumping the corpse of a ‘toad’ unceremoniously onto the exam table. 

“You killed it?” The question blurted out of Stiles as he got his first look at the creature. 

“Do you think it would still be in one piece, if I had killed it?” Derek lost the staring contest with Cora, as he looked to Stiles, answering his question with a question.

“I found piles of bodies this morning while I was patrolling. All like this.” Derek directed his words to Deaton, who nodded and immediately went to grab a pair of gloves. 

“So creepy shadow people, piles of dead bodies, and a disembodied voice saying Scott will be theirs. Not creepy at all.” Stiles shrugged, tossing his head in an anxious manner before cringing at the sight of Deaton with a scalpel. 

“I need more coffee. I’m going to the diner down the street, anybody else want anything?” Stiles said, eager to get out of their before the doc started cutting. Scott, Ethan and Liam all put in their orders but Cora announced she had to work, and Isaac shook his head politely declining. 

Stiles waited to get Deaton’s answer. He looked up from the body he was examining. “No thank you, Stiles.” Deaton answered, returning to the body. As Stiles went to pass by Derek, he reached out at the last second pulling Derek along behind him. 

“You’re coming with me.” Stiles flashed Derek a look that dared him to refuse.  


###### 

Stiles sat across from Derek in a booth, coffee turned into brunch. He wasn’t really hungry but he wanted a chance to talk to Derek and this was as good as any he was going to get. He slathered his toast in jelly, looking over at Derek who was making a point to not look at Stiles as he forked a bite of his eggs. 

“I know you were in my room last night. Why?” Stiles asked, deciding the direct route was the best. Might as well rip off this awkward band-aid, besides he liked watching the way Derek went entirely still and forget how to swallow that bit of food. 

For effect, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a tuft of black fur that he sat on the table between them. 

Stiles reclined on his side of the booth, as he picked up his cup of coffee and sipped at it. His whiskey eyes never leaving Derek. He could literally see the wheels turning, as Derek tried to put together an answer. 

“I thought you were in trouble. I heard things. I got concerned.” Derek said, clearing his throat but he never looked up.

“So you jumped in to save me?” Stiles finished for him, unable to keep the grin off his face. Mostly because Derek cared enough to think he might need saving. 

“Do you know how stupid it is to sleep with your window open in Beacon Hills?” Derek growled, now looking up to glare at Stiles. It was a glare Stiles was well used to by now. 

Stiles ignored this, and continued to grin at Derek. “My white, nay, black knight, saving me from my bad dreams. It’s poetic.” He joked, chuckling as he chased the straw in his glass with his mouth. 

“Stop.” Derek commanded, a little louder than was necessary. 

“I’m not mocking you, Derek.” Stiles said, all joking aside. He could tell he had stepped on something personal here. Derek coming into his room, meant something. He had no idea what that was but it meant enough that he was scared of being ridiculed for it.

“Thank you.” Stiles continued, sincerely. 

“Since the nogitsune, I’ve had nightmares. I honestly couldn’t tell you the last time I had a dream that didn’t leave me a basket case of anxiety.” Stiles admitted. While he couldn’t put a name to it, he could understand that Derek felt like he’d given something personal, so Stiles was trying to reciprocate. 

“I’m glad you were there, the shadows are creepy." That was the closest he was going to come to admitting they scared him. Living shadows were one of the scariest things in horror movies, that and little girls who lobster crawl down stairs with their bodies contorted in unnatural positions.

“But you did leave giant claw marks down the wall, and destroyed Mrs. Kellerman’s garden in your escape, who showed up at my front door this morning complaining about it, so if you don’t want me to tell Cora where you were last night, I need you to be at my place by four P.M. sharp, I figure with your super human strength it wouldn’t take very long to clean up _your_ mess.” Stiles fixed Derek with a look that said no matter what he said or did, there was no getting out of it.

He barely gave Derek a chance to process it before he launched into the second reason why he had insisted Derek come to the Diner with him. 

“Also there was a murder last night, when I got home, my dad wasn’t there - he left note saying there was an emergency. When I asked him this morning he said there had been a murder at the Pine Lodge Inn. You know that seedy looking place off of Highway 32 - anyway, my dad thinks the murder vic was a werewolf. I think we should check it out.” Stiles ventured a look at Derek, in an attempt to gauge how he was going to take this new piece of information. 

He watched as Derek put down his fork and leaned back, staring hard at Stiles. 

“First of all, why does the Sheriff think it was a werewolf? And why in God’s name do you think I’d take [em]you[/em] (Derek used Stiles’ exact tone of voice from before) with me if it was? Second, Why not ask Scott? I’m guessing you had a reason for not saying this at Deaton’s clinic in front of the group.” Derek countered, his face not softening in the slightest. 

“Something about too much blood and claw marks. I don’t honestly know but he’s been around enough supernatural shit that if he says he thinks the vic was a were-anything, I’m inclined to believe him.” Stiles paused, as he returned Derek’s stare. 

“And if by _you_ , you’re implying I’m helpless and human, you’re wrong. Well, I might be human but I’m a better detective than you. You aren’t taking me anywhere, I’m going whether you tag along or not, I only told you because it wouldn’t hurt having your super senses around to confirm suspicions. Scott has enough to deal with. I’m pretty sure he didn’t expect to get caught up in something the day we come back to Beacon Hills.” 

“Listen, in Boston, it was like he was able to leave all of this behind. There was no one trying to kill us and for once things were normal. How crazy is it, that the werewolf had an easier time fitting in than the human.” Stiles said, his voice dropping quietly. 

“What do you mean?” Derek asked, catching the rawness of honesty in Stiles’ voice. It was a thread that Derek couldn’t help pulling on. 

“I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t leave this place behind. I was constantly waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was like it was too normal, too quiet. I think I was driving myself crazy, looking for things that weren’t there. Scott made new friends instantly, but I couldn’t trust anyone. I couldn’t meet new people without wondering if they were going to try and kill me at some point. See, that fucking even sounds like something a crazy person would say.” Stiles rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair as if any hope for him being normal had long since flown the coop.

“To be honest, it sounds about right for someone raised in Beacon Hills, someone who knows the truth about Beacon Hills.” Derek said quietly, although it saddened him to know that Stiles wasn’t able to move on but he understood, Derek was in very much the same place. It was comforting in a selfish way, knowing that he wasn’t the only person who felt the weight of this place pulling them under.

He took a moment to really look at Stiles. He had grown up. There was something substantial to him. He’d finally filled out, but he was nothing but tall, lean muscle. Masculine, but there was something graceful, something that couldn’t stay hidden under the flailing of arms and clumsy feet of the gangly teenager he had been. He reminded Derek of the young summer bucks that roamed the preserve in summertime. All sleek muscle, vigor and grace. Their first set of horns glistening with dew in the sunrise, oblivious to the predator in their midst as they sparred amongst themselves testing their newfound strength. That’s exactly what Stiles reminded him of, right down to the brown eyes. 

Stiles didn’t get a chance to respond as the waitress brought their ticket and Stiles’ put in his to-go orders for the rest them at the animal clinic. Derek pulled out his wallet, and Stiles shook his head. “This is on me.” He smiled, “for being my hero.” He teased, eager to lighten the mood between them. 

Derek gave him a look, that was probably meant to be condescending, but looked more amused than anything as he stood and put his wallet back. “I’ll see you later.” He said, turning in the direction of the door.

“Four O’clock, sharp!” Stiles said after him, and although Derek made no notion that he’d heard, Stiles knew with his werewolf hearing, he’d heard him just fine. 

###### 

Derek pulled into the Stilinski driveway, parking behind Stiles’ jeep, leaving an empty spot for the Sheriff. He walked up to the door, rapping a quick knock on the door listening for the the scrambled footfalls of none other than Stiles coming down the stairs to answer the door. 

Stiles had been sitting in the floor of his room, laptop and books scattered around him. He was trying to find anything he could on the mythology of shadow creatures, his eyes occasionally darting to the deep claw marks in the wall. 

He pulled out of his phone, checking the time and sending a quick text to Scott to find out if Deaton had finished the necropsy. Scott still hadn’t replied by the time Derek knocked on his door. Stiles wasted no time scrambling down the stairs to answer said door and there was Derek, in pair of jeans and a grey tank top. Despite himself, Stiles stared, anyone with functioning eyes would have. Realizing what he was doing, he shook his head lightly, and refused to make eye contact with Derek as he moved out of the way and allowed him entry into the house. “Hey!” He said smiling, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt at that moment. 

Derek was used to people staring at him, it happened frequently. More than anything, it was annoying. Derek would much rather everyone else mind their own business. It wasn’t the first time through the years that Derek had caught Stiles looking at him. It was nothing Derek didn’t attribute to human physiology and an overload of hormones. 

“Stiles.” Derek said by way of a greeting, as he moved past Stiles and into the house. He stopped waiting for Stiles to take the lead, so they could get this over with. Derek was reaching his limit of human interaction for one day. 

Taking the cue to lead the way, Stiles led him through the house and out the back door into their back yard and crossed into Mrs. Kellerman’s garden, taking a moment to survey the damage. For most part it was a bunch of ripped up flowers and a destroyed bird feeder, and somehow he’d managed to knock over a stone garden sculpture. Stiles looked up, hearing at tap on the glass of Mrs. Kellerman’s kitchen window. She pointed down toward the open garage. He could see a plethora of garden tools and bags of mulch and soil. He nodded his understanding. 

Stiles looked over at Derek. “How did you manage to do so much damage?” He teased, before moving to the garage to gather supplies. The sooner they got started the sooner they could finish this. 

Derek didn’t answer instead he moved to the stone statue, hefting it back into place. An act that Stiles would’ve struggled with. Derek probably could have lifted the thing with one hand, but made a show of it, since Mrs. Kellerman was watching from her window. 

The afternoon wore on, and finally after sweltering under the summer sun and replanting what felt like a thousand flowers they were almost finished. Not that it was so bad, Stiles could remember watching his mom do this in their own backyard but, he highly doubted she was as sloppy at it as he seemed to be. The sweat kept running down into his eyes and he kept trying to wipe it away with grungy hands that left streaks of dirt on his face. 

“Maybe these things will survive the wrath of Derek Hale. I need more soil over here.” Stiles called as he leaned up on his knees, allowing his spine to uncurl and stretch to a more natural pose. He looked over at Derek, who had been ripping open bags of mulch with his bare hands and spreading it about the flower beds. Once again Stiles couldn’t help but stare. He could fully appreciate that the sight of a hot and sweaty Derek Hale performing physical labor was worth every minute spent broiling under the summer sun. 

Derek could smell it on Stiles before he ever said anything to him, he was however, trying to ignore it. Catching his words, Derek looked up at Stiles, not at all surprised to see him staring. Normally Stiles tried to hide it from him, or had the decency to not openly gawk at him. He could smell it, not quite lust - but something equally a base instinct that Derek inspired in Stiles. He liked what he saw. 

In an effort to distract him, Derek picked up a half empty bag of potting soil and chunked it at Stiles. 

Startled out of his stupor by the bag of dirt flying toward him, Stiles caught it more with his chest than with his actual hands. It landed against him with a thud, the force flinging black dirt all over him. Out of instinct, he reached down and grabbed the water hose, spraying it at Derek in retaliation before he even realized what he was doing. 

He stopped abruptly, looking shocked with himself that he’d just sprayed Derek Hale with a water hose and Derek looking equally as shocked to have been sprayed. It was more something that Stiles might have done goofing around with Scott. It was a well known fact that Derek didn’t know how to have fun. There was a half second of stunned silence between them before Stiles realized he’d gone this far, he couldn’t stop now. A mischievous little grin spread across his face while he slowly raised the water hose, aiming for his unarmed target. 

Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles’ mischievous grin, and without realizing it, found himself returning that grin. As Stiles’ hand raised the spray nozzle of the water hose ominously, Derek’s expression changed subtly, a challenging look of you-wouldn’t-dare.

Stiles could probably count the times he’d seen Derek smile on one hand. So seeing the guy grin at him was entirely unexpected and caught him off guard. Stiles reminded himself to spray the guy with water hoses more often. Stiles returned his challenging look, that turned smug. He would dare. He pressed the release on the nozzle, spraying Derek for as long as he dared. He figured he had a good three seconds before Derek got to him. With a happy laugh, Stiles was running before the water hose even hit the ground. 

Derek was soaking wet, by the time the nozzle cut off. He smiled harder at Stiles’ laugh. Something he hadn’t heard in a long time. When he realized Stiles was about to run and inadvertently start a game of chase, a flicker of fear flashed in his brain along with the warning,

_Don’t run, Stiles._

It was too late for him to say it aloud, as Stiles was already running. Something flipped in Derek like a switch. 

Stiles made it back into his own yard, and even though he was fast, he wasn’t fast enough for a werewolf. Derek closed the distance in a few strides, leapt and tackled Stiles to the ground, much too hard to be playful. 

By the time Stiles landed, he realized he’d had the breath knocked out of him. “Jesus Christ, Derek.” Stiles wheezed his complaint, trying to squirm from under him. 

“Don’t. move.” Derek growled in warning, struggling to get the words out, his voice feral, a pale shadow of his human voice. His eyes shone blue, his teeth dangerously sharp in his open mouth.

Stiles froze at the sound of his voice, it was the first indication he had that something was wrong.

“Derek?” He asked cautiously slow, and as Derek raised his head, Stiles was able to see his eyes, burning blue, like the heart of some frozen, distant planet. Stiles went deathly still underneath Derek, like some small creature hiding in the grass trying to avoid detection. He tried his best not to be afraid, not to panic. Derek wouldn’t hurt him. He might threaten him, a lot, but he’d never actually hurt him. At least that was what Stiles told himself, while he tried to stay calm. 

All Derek’s wolf could hear was the rabbiting of Stiles heart against the cage of his chest. He could taste the fear rolling off of Stiles and it was delicious on his tongue. That was the predator who had chased down its prey, but it was also more than that. Something deep in him that was for better or worse, drawn to Stiles. Derek lowered his head into the space between Stiles’ neck and shoulder where he could breath in Stiles’ scent heady with fear, exertion and sweat while his own breath blew warm against his skin. He fought every urge to lick the salt from Stiles’ skin, to bare his teeth and bite down, to mark Stiles’ and taste blood. Derek was most certainly losing any shred of control he thought he was clinging to before. He pulled back, screwing his eyes shut as he tried to regain that control. 

Stiles was pretty sure at some point he had probably fantasized about this happening, but it was a whole let less sexy in practice than theory. He was terrified with Derek’s teeth entirely too close to his jugular. Stiles’ mind was racing, looking for a way out of this. He had acted like a prey animal when he ran, he should have known better. Stiles watched Derek screw his eyes shut, he could see the struggle between man and beast play out on his face, he could feel it in the tremble of Derek’s arms that held him above Stiles. Suddenly, Stiles’ mind zeroed in on a memory. 

“Alpha. Beta. Omega. Alpha. Beta. Omega.” Stiles said, finding his voice. His words were measured, methodic. “Alpha. Beta. Omega.” He repeated, he reached up tentatively placing a hand on Derek’s shoulder, “Say it with me.” He ordered, repeating the mantra until he heard Derek’s voice a raspy whisper joining his. Slowly Derek’s voice became stronger, more his own until when he finally exhaled and opened his eyes, the blue faded into human green. 

Derek blinked twice, and crawled back and away from Stiles, until he was sitting on the grass by his feet. Taking this as a sign he could move, Stiles sat up immediately looking at Derek, he looked more unnerved by what happened than Stiles did. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, looking over at Derek but he wasn’t expecting an answer and didn’t get one.

Derek wasn’t paying him any attention. After a long moment Derek pushed himself off the ground. He gave Stiles a quick look, completely horrified at himself.

“I need to go.” He said, in the process of walking away from Stiles, towards the driveway. 

“Hey! What about-” Stiles shouted after a hastily retreating Derek, “-tonight?” He finished to himself as Derek went out of view.

Instead of dragging himself up, Stiles flopped back down in the grass, folding his arms behind his head as he let his heart rate slow. He watched fluffy, white summer clouds drift by in an endless blue ocean of sky and there was only one thought he kept coming back to.

He had made Derek Hale smile. 

_I’m leaving now. Meet you there?_

Stiles hit the send button before bringing his thumb nail to his teeth. This was the seventh text that Stiles sent Derek, his previous six not earning him any reply. It was frustrating him for more reasons than one. 

The drive to the Pine Lodge Inn was quiet, mostly because Stiles didn’t feel like listening the radio. The neon green glow of the time on the console read 01:23AM. It was so dark he couldn’t see anything past the illumination of the headlights on the Jeep. He leaned up, looking up at the sky through the windshield as he drove. There was no stars, no moon, the cloud cover too thick to see anything. 

The Pine Lodge Inn was out of the way, and older than Stiles, twice over. It was the type of place you stayed when you were trying to keep a low profile. He turned into the driveway, his headlights sweeping over the dull vacancy sign. It was quiet, and lifeless. The parking lot was empty and there were no lights on. The Inn had closed during the investigation, so it wasn’t that unusual for it to be deserted, although it was a little unnerving. 

Stiles parked the Jeep, taking a moment to look around for any sign of Derek. Stiles never had a lot of patience and it didn’t take him long to get sick of waiting once he decided he was on his own in this. Reaching over he grabbed a small flashlight out of the passenger seat before getting out of the Jeep. He cringed at the harsh noise of the door closing after him, it sounded exceptionally loud in the quiet parking lot.

The room he was looking for was easily identifiable by the police tape. Room 27. He knew the room number from sneaking peeks at the pictures in his father’s case file. The Sheriff might be handling all this supernatural stuff pretty well, but if he found out Stiles was sneaking into a crime scene, he’d be on house arrest for the rest of the summer.

Anxiety pushed him to a fast walk across the parking lot toward his intended target. He couldn’t help looking over his shoulder at the slightest sound. Being alone made him paranoid. He was already thinking what a stupid idea this was, doing it alone. He should have asked Scott. His pride told him he’d gone too far to turn around now. 

Ducking under the police tape, he stopped at the locked door. The Pine Lodge Inn was too cheap to have card swiping locks. They still had locks that required an actual key, said key probably buried in the sheriff’s office by this point and there was no way in hell Stiles would be able to lift it without being noticed. Luckily, he had a plan B and a budding skill set frowned upon by law enforcement. 

Stiles dropped to his knees in front of the locked door, flicked on the small flashlight and dug a small kit out of his pocket. He unzipped it, revealing a small collection of lock picks. Relocating the end of the flashlight to his mouth, it freed up his hands, setting to the task of picking the lock. 

“Did you intentionally dress like we’re robbing a bank?” Stiles startled at the sound of Derek’s voice with a half strangled yelp as he tried not to swallow the flashlight when he pitched forward, his forehead ramming into the door knob. 

He let himself fall back to sit on the ground as he brought the heel of his hand to press against the pain in his forehead and his wounded pride. He hissed at the pain, looking up to glare at Derek who raised both of his hands innocently with an expression that said I-never-touched-you.

“Damn sneaky bastard. Would it kill you to shuffle your feet once and awhile?” Stiles complained through gritted teeth. 

“You thought you were caught, didn’t you?” Even though it was dark, Stiles could literally hear the smug little smirk in Derek’s words. Derek reached over Stiles, took hold of the door twisting with enough force that they both heard it when the lock broke. 

“Pick up your toys, Stiles.” Derek said in a playfully patronizing tone, stepping past him and into the room, leaving Stiles to scramble behind him.

“Way to answer your texts, by the way.” Stiles fired off accusingly, as he scrambled in behind Derek.

“I was busy.” Derek answered in a distracted tone. 

As Stiles swept the small beam of light from the flashlight over the room, he understood why Derek was distracted. The room was completely destroyed, dried blood painted the walls and the carpet. He walked carefully behind Derek, jumping slightly when the flashlight swept across a mirror and he caught his own reflection. 

It was noticeable enough that Derek looked over his shoulder to check on Stiles. rolling his eyes when he realized Stiles was jumping at his own reflection.

Stiles made a face at him in the dark. 

“So Deaton said the toad thing was exsanguinated, that means-” Stiles started, 

“I know what exsanguinated means, Stiles” Derek interrupted. 

“Are you picking up anything here?” Stiles asked, trying not to voice his annoyance. 

“Werewolf. Female. Omega. No Pack. Late 20s - early 30s maybe. There’s another scent here but I don’t recognize it. I don’t know what it is. She put up a fight, I smell anger, fear, hopelessness, death. She was a weak omega, she knew she was going to die but she fought anyway.” For the briefest of moments, Derek’s eyes flashed blue in the darkness. 

“That better not be guilt I hear.” Stiles said, turning the flashlight on Derek, so he could see his face. “You can’t protect everyone.” Stiles didn’t like anything Derek was saying, but it disturbed him more that Derek was willing to take on this responsibility. 

“She was someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s sister, or someone’s mother and she was in my territory. If I can’t keep my own territory safe for my own kind then I don’t deserve the name Hale.” There was such conviction in Derek’s voice, Stiles couldn’t argue with it. He just wanted him to realize he didn’t have go at it alone. Suddenly, he understood everything Cora had said to him yesterday. 

Stiles moved through the small apartment, and absently pulled down the blinds overlooking the lot in the back, his eyes widening as he realized what he looking at. “Der-Derek. Der-” Stiles was reaching blindly behind himself not daring to look away, until his hand grabbed the sleeve of Derek’s shirt tugging him toward the window. 

“You see that, right?” Stiles asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t crazy. 

It took all over two seconds for Derek to see what Stiles had, before snarling and tearing out of the apartment, Stiles still scrambling behind him. 

The scene that greeted them was straight out of a horror movie. The figure dimly illuminated by Stiles’ flashlight looked like he’d just stepped out of a photo from the 1800s, his skin a sickly white, like the belly of a dead fish. In his arms hung the limp naked body of a woman, her long dark hair a shock against the gray of her dead skin. Stiles watched as the man spun her around, her feet dragging through the dirt bending at unnatural angles. He was dancing with the corpse to a tune neither Stiles or Derek could hear. He dipped her back, allowing her head to fall back exposing a brutal gash across her throat, the most obvious cause of death that Stiles could see. Unnerving, but second only to the dark, lifeless, unseeing eyes yellowing in decomposition. Stiles watched in disgusted horror, as the man’s tongue lapped inside the gash in her throat, before letting the body drop from his arms, crumpling lifelessly on the ground as he finally seemed to notice the werewolf and human. 

Instinctively, Derek stepped in front of Stiles, reaching to pull him behind him, protecting him. His eyes flared blue, and the werewolf snarled, baring his teeth at this new threat. 

Stiles’ hand shook causing the light from the flashlight to tremble across the man, if he could be called that. The creature’s head tilted carefully, and now Stiles’ could discern other differences. The sclera of its eyes not white like what would be considered normal, but blood red The iris a pale yellow belonging to a predator, glassy and unfocused. Their look reminding him of the same look Peter sometimes got, the look of insanity. Slowly they came to focus on Derek, and something like recognition hit, the creature smiled, but there was nothing friendly in it, exposing long fangs and smaller sharpened teeth. 

“Derek Hale.” It hissed in a voice that wasn’t quite human, “I’ve been waiting for you.” The creature continued, making an attempt to sound more human, it even had an accent. French, Stiles realized with a fresh wave of horror.


End file.
